Dating & Robots

My latest dating app-binge landed me with over four planned dates in one weekend span and a heart rate that wouldn’t let up. That’s a lot of coffee in two days!

Caffeine overdosing aside, you can guess how this went.

I’m 32% sure I went out with a robot. On our first date the weekend prior, I thought he was nervous. I should question the leeway I give people on first dates. If I’m nervous but can still act normal then so can other HUMANS.

I also entertained the possibility that this was a social experiment and/or I was on a TV show. Maybe I’m correct in assuming he is a robot but the real test is how long do I stay on the date, could determine my own gullibility. Are people shouting to me “HOW DUMB ARE YOU?!” on Twitter as we speak?

Only twelve minutes in and I was creeped the fuck out. I would tell a delightful anecdotal story and he would say “ha ha wow that’s crazy.” Just as he had done the other four times. Picture a person saying “ha ha”  the EXACT way you read it. Shivers up my spine. I contemplated throwing half my drink out in the bush when he wasn’t looking because I felt like I had to be completely uninhibited in case this particular robot was given a mission or something. How do I know that I’m not a key player in it’s plan for world dominance? and also the sooner the drinks are empty the sooner the date is over?

Placing your body as far away as possible from someone you are sharing a table with is challenging. Another reason for only being 32% sure was that he (it?) was HANDSY. It didn’t even make sense! But perhaps this particular robot has a coding like as soon as he finishes one of his robotic sentences such as “wow that’s funny” the code 6257993 presents, telling his hand to reach exactly 3 centimeters closer to where mine is trying to steer my drink and whole existence to the other side of the country.

While I was googling under the table “what songs put robots to sleep?” my best friend was going on an online date that could be written into a best-selling romantic novel – in the future when meeting people in real life becomes completely out of the question –  and was ACTUALLY excited to be going on a first date.

Her and this guy had matched over a week ago and were talking every hour, on the hour. He was wild about her and the two of them were so excited to meet each other in person that their cellphones were probably both glitching with exclamation point overload. It was possibly the cutest thing I had ever witnessed and probably the only truly positive online dating interaction I’ve ever had anyone tell me about.

Their first date was somehow even BETTER than expected. Chemistry, common interests and the real winner: mutual physical attraction.

The day after their date he texted and canceled their second date but was still texting excitedly, so all appeared normal.

Then he went radio silent for an entire weekend.

It was a complete 180 and was so out of character that even I, the cynic, wondered if he had been killed in a freak accident.

When he did respond on Sunday, to my best friends concerned text of “hey,  you okay?” It was like a different person had his phone. He acted as if she was clingy for texting over the weekend. Not an exclamation point in sight.

Neither my best friend or I having any ability to unravel this, I luckily next day was given this article by Facebook – who knows me better than I know myself and is actually probably a way creepier robot than the one I had drinks with – that provides labels for different types of dating app blow-offs and how to spot them. Link provided here:

https://www.urbo.com/content/signs-that-hes-just-not-that-into-you/

I thought to myself, finally! The revolution!

But then after, realizing, that these are already behaviors I have blogged about for YEARS, but are now being given names and categories and are via app/online dating only. Cancel the revolution, this is a simple history lesson on a very high tech white board.

Not to take this blog post on a tour away from the playful loathing of all men, but the beginning of the article begins with the author stating that she has been in the online-dating game for almost a decade. Whoa! I thought. But then it hit me, I’ve been doing this for awhile too.

My blog is five years old now and my stories cycle around like I’m throwing them in the dryer.  Bad date, drunken night, and over the top analyzing of if a person returns my feelings. I started noticing three months ago that old blogs I had begun following years ago are gone, unused. Few remain and some that do, still blog about the same types of dates, the same types of guys, everything is the same except their age.

I see it even now as I once again look for roommates on Craigslist as friends move out with their significant others. I felt it the other night as I texted a friend about a bartender that I have a crush on. When is the appropriate time to follow him on Instagram? I began to text a friend asking her if one of my brothers friends that I have a crush on is coming out tonight. This all floods me with deja’vu. How many times have I done this? Texted this? Gone for this person? Wanted to go for this person but did nothing instead? This is all the same.

I had to ask myself, Do I do anything different, ever? Am I a robot myself, my brain giving me codes that tell me to do this action now, but which leads me to the same result every single time?

This isn’t to talk shit about online dating, or dating in general. This is my own personal wake up call. I write about it in hopes that if someone else is experiencing this same dating cycle, maybe you know how to get out of it and you could tell me? That’d be super great thanks!

Robots in the movies often learn to love the kid that initially made them a pet,  and then the robots basically have some form of heart-feelings and are different so there is plenty of hope for me, based upon this reference to maybe two animated movies I’ve seen in the past three years.

Headed  to bed now to probably have some nightmares about looking down to find that my hands are now iron wielded claws, thanks for reading folks!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Girl, A Phone, A Romantic Comedy!

The admin life has left me! Or I have left it! Or we have parted ways only to be reunited once we drop our kids back off to each other at the park! Regardless I am free from the perils of a perfectly nice office environment that I haven’t stopped complaining about for six months, and it feels good!

One of my last required dinners with the office I was tasked with going to the grocery store to find birthday candles, picking up the cake from the bakery, and then bringing it to the restaurant. I spent minutes silently congratulating myself for not dropping the cake as I have the tendency to cast myself in my own movie, as funny and single female protagonist who is genetically clumsy, would usually drop the cake and be now in a tub of self loathing.

So to summarize, I am very excited about my new job! I am now working at a non-profit focused on environmental issues and find myself out in the field talking to other businesses which I enjoy immensely.

Around the time I was preparing for my new job to begin, I re-downloaded a dating app and I saw a girl while browsing, whose place of work had very similar descriptions, to well, mine. She seemed cool and I thought it would be far too coincidental for her to actually be employed at my new job, the odds!

On my first day, my coordinator tells me that there is another employee  that I would get along well with, and as she walks toward me I recognized her instantly from the app. I prayed that she hadn’t  been on the app in years, like she had created it drunk one night in the middle of a blackout, that the email attached to it isn’t valid now, or she doesn’t even believe in phones!

Everything started off fine with App girl (her christian name) and we got along well. I began to breathe an overly dramatic sigh of relief. Whew! She never saw me on the App, she browsed right on past me. App girl and I then walk into a meeting together and I see her on her phone awhile.

I said inaudibly to myself “wouldn’t it be hilarious if that damn app matched us today? Ha ha.”

 

ha ha

ha ha….

 

So apps hear our thoughts now, they don’t even bother with our scroll history.

Hours later I’m finally opening up the app and what do you know, indeed we’ve been matched, that same day. I instantly feel irritated that I am NOT in a movie, because this, much like dropping a cake in the middle of a street and disappointing a whole work gathering, is movie worthy! It is a romantic comedies bread and butter, it is the girl meeting the guy the night before and then walking into the office and she is his new boss. It is the woman sleeping with a cutie she met at the bar and walking into work to learn that his company has now partnered with hers and the two of them will be working on a new project together. This is the gay equivalent!

So after I wrote four Hollywood worthy plot lines in my head, that I felt like really captured this scenario at it’s most comedic and cliche, I clicked on the essential No Thank You button on the app. It felt like a safer route and I  hoped that it would be something her and I could laugh off later. Oh those dating apps, they are so silly and troublesome, why are we on those? (As we say it, we’ll both remember that we complain about the traffic to our fridges when we get home).

My second day at work one of my coordinators informs me that I’ll be attending a training on ethical business practices in Arizona and that I will probably travel there with another person in our department.

ha ha….

HA HA

Should my eyes look this large when I laugh?

Naturally my travel companion would be app girl.

Weeks later the trip is canceled due to other needs within the department, and now app girl has a very cool and aloof tone and demeanor when she is with me. I have regressed and begun to blame things such as apps for my life’s grievances,  but continue to download them and become embarrassed about something I said or did on the app and then call up all my friends and make them listen to the story and repeat.

The app, though all it has brought is drama and nervousness to my life, has been a kind of stability. Feelings re-emerged for boy I tried to hit on one year ago this month and as I get to sit there and listen to him deliver me the jovial story line of the girls he is attempting to date just even in the past couple of months, I like to think that I am also attempting to date, and will also have a colorful anecdote to share that will hopefully shut him up about his love life forever and ever, amen.

Okay and I am just curious, is anyone else completely and irrevocably fucking DONE with some of the App-Profile-Verbage?

If one more guy or girl says they are looking for someone who “likes to try new things” I swear on my life I will pop every beach toy in my pool, string them together in a line, and walk from end to end calling myself Jesus of the Shallow End. IS THIS THE NEW THING YOU WERE HOPING FOR?

Don’t even get me started with the “someone who makes me laugh.” Well damn, I’m only out here to get a scowl or too, this won’t work.

Okay before this tangent gets too long and provokes me further, I want to wish all my other Dating App Users luck, and as for the folks out there doing it in real life, well you are living the dream right now so I don’t need to wish you as much luck, you get to hear them list their hobbies in real time, enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain When It’s Most Inconvenient

As one could guess, the sparkling, pasrty-ridden love of me and Cake Girl is no more, and was there, never.

Apparently each extreme measure of notice to me was all in the name of friendship, and she is actually seeing a guy right now. Excellent work, me! Gotta give a shout out to myself for knowing how to build nothing into something!

After our night out ended I imagined her going home to tell her boyfriend about the awesome friendship that has started with me, as I bang my head on my steering wheel and text everyone I know “WTF.”

Now we say hi to eachother quite as we did before, her excitedly and me as friendly as I can muster to save face and dignity. Hello! How are you?I never had any hopes beyond the honor of this slightly intense female friendship!

And as I quickly pick my spirits back up from the ground where I threw them, enter scene Tilly.

Tilly is someone you – my fellow readers, and family members I’ve coerced into putting up with this – never got to know because she came about during my No-Blogging era of two almost-ish years.

The story of me and Tilly is that we began as coworkers and friends, spending most of our time together cracking jokes and making fun of eachother. Sometimes I would worry about her when she went out on assignments and I assumed that was normal.

Then one night we had training, and as I was leaving, the speaker talking and the room quiet, I squeezed Tilly’s hand upon leaving the room to say bye and immediately felt I had been electrocuted in a supernatural way.

A weird buzzing hum of my whole body followed the “zap,” I later wrote of it in my journal as “body on fire.” Which is more truthful to the sensation. It’s like your skin is burning, singeing off of your body onto the floor, but in a good way!

That moment changed everything and I became aware of Tilly like I never had before. The physical attraction began for her then and I’ve experienced nothing like it since.

Five months later, I’m 100% infatuated with her. I can’t sleep, I ask her to hang out, she claims busyness, I selfishly drop our close friendship and we fall into niceties, we see eachother less, I think every car driving past me is hers, I try to date other people, we slowly begin to be politely friendly again after months gone by,

and then I fall for someone new, a really cool chick, and I’m STOKED. This person could really be into to me, this could really work!

Then, suddenly, like when you make the perfect cup of coffee and then accidentally knock it over, I hear through vague sentences and many metaphorical telephone lines, that Tilly is now into me.

I could have thrown a chair out a window, like I see characters ultimately frustrated by everything, do in movies. So picture me a frustrated character of a ridiculously drama fueled plot line, finally seeing a light at the end of a dark tunnel only to question if that light in the dark tunnel is really the one or not.

I was never able to go forward with the new cool chick and nothing ever led on with Tilly despite rumored statements and obscure words passed on by really hopeful people.

Which leads us to the present. It has been eight months since Tilly and I have spoken, a month or so after Cake Girl and I went out for “friend drinks” and I had just been allowing myself to get a little caught up in what I call “curiosity-feelings” for a girl who has been around for awhile. Her and I had begun talking a little more each day when Tilly texted me.

Which has now led to me and Tilly texting several times a week, sharing books, and making coffee dates, all in the name of, you guessed it, friendship.

Coincidentally during this period, a guy from Blog Posts Past who I lovingly termed MCC for Male Coworker Crush, slipped back into my work world, almost as if hearing in the wind that I needed more people in my life whom I do not have sex with.

He came in astride with new girlfriend and adorable yellow lab and a sense of happiness that is evident in everything. We connected again with ease, he caught me up on all the people he dated that were not me, and then dipped back out of my life after landing a successful job, wishing me luck of course, in all my endeavors.

To put the icing on the cake, the nail in the coffin, the lime in the coconut, the “Fin” at the end of an indie movie, The Boy Next Door returns for the first time since July to startle me with news that he is seeing someone.

I heard that Bon Jovi song go off in my head

Shot to the heart! And you’re to blame! You give looooove….

……. a perfectly valid reason to be dating someone seeing as how we are not and have never been together.

Besides that small moment of bitter song editing, surprising myself the most I am actually handling all of this really well! My thoughts for the most part stay focused on the friendships with these people now, with 75% less pining and disappointment and then avoiding!

The two reasons I correlate to my change in behavior are

1. I’m ever so mature, and less temper-tantrum like when people don’t return my intense feelings.

2. (And the more likely) I have had time spent away to let the infatuation part wear off.

I might not be great with the Boy Next Door one yet. That shit feels real fresh but I’m still going to pat myself on the back and congratulate myself on what an adult I am.

Now if you’ll excuse me, adults get to drink

Cakes and Categories

One of the hottest women of my acquaintance delivered a cake to me, made for me, just for me this weekend and I feel like the universe is finally getting my voicemails.

Even if I have to watch this girl bring a cake to every one of my coworkers over the next week, this moment still stands in the Top 10 Things I Actually Want to Remember About This Fucking Year.

I asked for her number that same night that she brought the cake in, all in nerves and rambling but received minimal words and mostly smilies via text after and since then I’ve been pretty much all real smiles myself. There are also so many Marie Antoinette quips that I want to make but I don’t even know where to start with them, you all are welcome.

I wish I could stand a little sturdier in my certainty about her being 100% interested, but if you’re like me at all and you’ve placed people into romantic categories, you know that certain categories come with little chance of returned favor, and so when they show up with cakes you can react internally at yourself like this:

It’s a cake you dumb fuck not a date

Jumping to the don’t get your hopes up is such a reflex! As a serial non-dater who hates rejection passionately, I have created categories for self protection, specifically to not find myself reaching for people beyond my reach, if you know what I’m saying.  It’s like universal law, you can’t just go after ANYONE you like, there are rules! Categories! And these categories help me manage expectations.

The categories of crushes are informally ushered in as the following:

The Objects

Don’t think actual objects, think instead the phrase “object of my desire.” Folks in this category are tangible, meaning you touch them, brush shoulders with them, you are in their society. The Objects are people in my groups of friends, coworkers, classmates, neighbors and roommates. You are almost constantly with people in this category and often you show at least a handful of commonalities or shared interests, for example if you’re both around age 26, then drinking would be your main interest and also commonality.  What’s great about crushing on someone in this group? You get to get all tangled up in those feelings all the damn time because if you’re not around this person then you’re at least seeing their witty remarks in group texts. What is sucky? When you get to see them hitting on other people/are asked for help to help them hit on other people.

The Elites

This is basically your highest category, the most unattainable, giving you least reason to exercise any potential hope. These are folks who shouldn’t be seen with you and you wouldn’t expect them to! Call it being rich or just of a higher social class, these folks just feel out of reach and whom you have no intersecting groups or connections with. Those crushes in this group have far superior social graces so they will always be kind to you in passing but who feel more like local celebrities than friends. Elites in my world often times look like a bosses niece or nephew, a trainer contracted to come out to my work for a seminar, an out of town relative to the bride and groom at a wedding, a coworker of a  friend of a friend. In general these people don’t appear too much in my society so seeing them is temporary. What’s great is that those small glimpses leave a lot to the imagination of who they really are and they millions of ways they could fall in love with you, were you a completely different person. What’s sucky is that you might feel that you can’t measure up, that you wore your best skirt but it doesn’t even strike a cord to their level of fashion.

The Runners

This is  a middle ground between the two groups, where people fall a little bit closer to the standards of your particular society however they still are not completely available. Named The Runners because to you, they appear always on the move, always in the lieu of change, and you can’t keep up. Moments with them are fleeting, think of the phrase “sorry, you just missed him.” “sorry, she just stepped out.” That is what this group is like, you are trying to find your footing but the plates spin too fast. Folks in this group are my roommates brother who comes into town for holidays and has a lot of people to catch up with so you take him in in small doses when feasible. It’s your good friends old college friend in the city for the weekend and suddenly you are volunteering as to go to all the group wine tastings, brunches, and drunk mcdonalds trip there are, but then the weekend is over. A symptom of crushing on someone in this group is though it can feel like there is never enough time. You want to impress them, learn about them, but every time they slip back into your world you start over. What’s good about this type of crush is that it saves you from the monotony of your Object crush or Elite crush, and gives you someone to think of and then long for when they leave the next day. The sucky thing is that well they leave just as you’ve made some progress.

My new cake-bringer-gal, whose name is Pearla by the way, is firmly rooted in The Runners category. Though she is on my playing field and becoming more connected to my coworkers she still remains a passing ship for the most part. It’s like going to sit down as someone gets up to leave, that feeling of wishing you had been there two seconds earlier.

Pearla has been my unspoken crush for awhile until I blurted it out to coworkers two months ago and to which they began a silent mission to make me a  more bold version of myself. In truth it is them, my coworkers and their almost annoyingly constant encouragement that made it seem plausible that there could be something between me and someone so engaged in a million other things and seemingly oblivious to me. After much positive feedback from the coworkers, I gave her a drink on the house one time and she brought in pastries for me same day. I then approached her for more conversation that normal and she stayed awhile to stir her coffee a little longer, and  then about two weeks ago she began to ask my coworkers where I was on my nights off.

All that to say that for all the good my categories do at self protection, had I not been encouraged to take a step outside of them, I wouldn’t have this memory of a beautiful girl smiling at me over the top of a cake. I also wouldn’t have a memory of one of the strangest nervous laughs of my life but focusing back on the cake moment, the cake moment!

I do stand by my categories and their usefulness to me specifically but I am glad in this moment that I was pushed out of them. I really do not think that Pearla would have noticed me had I not done some things to get her attention, and I owe it all to my coworkers who see more possibilities than I do and who also love to stir the pot lets be honest, who doesn’t want to see other coworkers get into messy dating scenarios and have things to gossip about for months?

The hardest part might be coming up soon, how do I keep a Runners attention? Our texting has already slipped into some monotony and silence, not having taken a deeper course at all, I may have to step up and formally ask her out, continuing to put myself in her view before she runs off to the next adventure.

If nothing else I have a great memory or two, a little experience with putting myself in someones path, and I might make 2017 the Year of the Cakes! Instead of Year of the Fuckboy,s which was my prior working title, Calories over Asshats? I’ll let you guys know where I land on that, in the meantime, enjoy all the sweets because life is short and romance is all through text anyway!

 

 

Admin Life, Am I Right?

I can count on my hands, the hands of others, an infants new toes, all of the millions of times I stated with vigor that I would never be sitting at a boring desk job, which is really to conclude that all words mean absolutely nothing.

Still at the temp job and now taking photos with the staff for holiday cards, creating a summary of myself for our website, and setting up my newly redone office. Cue panic.

To manage the sinking feeling in my chest that my life is becoming obsolete and I’m falling into a stapler and paper shredder abyss, I devised myself a small game. I call it my amusement tally and the premise is to collect the hysterically stereotypical elements of my administrative assistant life and then remember them all at once and laugh in the bathroom stall.

Example of Tally –

How many days does my boss talk about how the team across the hall wouldn’t share their wifi with us so we wont share our fridge with them?

Answer: Every day

How many times does my other boss sigh to himself because the other boss says if you do it in this order, it creates order”

Answer: Every hour

Last month I got a huge chuckle out of a situation that was not funny in the moment but is perfectly hilarious now. It was one of my bosses birthday and the other boss walks to my desk and plants a stickie note there that says my other bosses name and then writes “birthday lunch 12:30.” By the time I read it he has left and is on a call with a client.

I have so many questions.

Does the other boss know that this lunch is happening or is it a surprise? She has mentioned nothing about this and she mentions everything that ever enters her mind ever. Also why can’t you give me this information out loud? Does it feel more surprise-ish if we pass secret notes? Do I put a corresponding stickie note on your desk that says “Yes. I’m in.” ? Are you inviting me to go or is this mandatory? Am I getting paid still for an extended lunch? I have zero cash on me at the moment since you have passed me this mysterious neon note an hour before the possible surprise lunch begins. Are you driving? Do you all normally drink at lunch? Are we still going back to the office after? Also I’m straight broke, are you buying?

At 12:30 with the most anxiety I’ve felt in awhile, I simply followed my bosses out to their cars and got in one, decided to just answer yes to everything since everything is lost on me anyhow, did not pay for a penny of lunch, participated in office talk for two hours, came back to my desk to lay my head down on it and thank the universe for delivering me back here, to this desk, and to these letters I have to send out. I could have kissed those letters.

In two weeks we are having a similar work luncheon of which I plan on finding out every detail about beforehand so my social anxiety can take a breather, and I can sort everything out from transportation to outfits to planned topics such as the stock market and the new housing development being put in in the neighborhood. Maybe googling “things I don’t care about” would be faster.

Some of my amusement tally I’ve become used to, much to my dismay. Like I don’t even notice the hilarity of squabbles over the fridge and sharing the copy machines anymore because it’s white noise but luckily I am around when my bosses fight over where to put a fake plant and if we should start our filing tabs to the left now so there is some forced and designed joy left for me to have.

Occasionally I turn my head to the side facing our door, as if I am Pam Beesley looking at the camera when Michael Scott says or does something and it makes me feel better that the door frame and outer hall understand my struggles and can relate and are also saying “omg” or texting me “smh” in equal annoyance.

More stories to come after my next business luncheon, of which I’m sure I’ll find myself nodding about office hierarchy and salary comparisons, and then off to have a bottle of wine after as my reward for not making up a family emergency to leave! Can’t wait!

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re Welcome”

Was how the most cringe worthy text of life ended, from a boy I hooked up with the night before.

Hooked up being a loose term, performed a shitty hand job is probably closer to the truth.

I’m going to confess something to the internet as a whole that I know I have no ability to justify, no rational to provide,

I asked this boy out for beers and in the beginning of the date he tells me his parents are dead, 3 beers later he tells me actually his dad is not.

I. STILL. TEXTED. HIM. THE. NEXT. DAY.

Like I stated, I have no excuse. My only possible pardon is that I’ve had a crush on him for years and I was blinded by my vision, my conquest if you will.

I know, still.

Why though? For what purpose does this serve? Sympathy sex? I’m out having beer number four with you and it’s pushing 1am, aren’t the odds already in your favor?

Ugh anyways the OTHER main problem with this guy is that he comes in this shy-nerd-oblivious-awkward-nice guy packaging but is in truth a fuckboi and a pretty shameless one at that.

After blowing me off after our “hookup” a month ago after saying “You’re welcome” in response to my text thanking him for the beers and telling him I wanted to hang out again (stupidly), he now texts me “hey is this you?” I respond briefly and wearily and suddenly it dawns on me, HE HAS NEVER USED MY NAME.

Not once. Not one time. Oh my god.

So I poke a little bit, do you really know who this is? Who is it then?

He scooped around the poison I was laying out, “I figured it was you,” “of course I know who this is.”

Sadly it was THIS that caused me to officially never respond to him again. Like put it down on the books I am outright ashamed that I went anywhere near this guys dick.

My lack of response could not deter him though, the last thing he texted me was:

“Send pic”

Insert *I am screaming* here.

He is alluding to when I did in fact drunkenly send him some compromising pictures of myself and is obviously wanting me to send more now, but a month too late and without a name, no siree.

Also, when I actually did send him those photos many moons ago, it was actually one of the most degrading experiences of my adult life.

Has anyone ever sent someone nudes and the other person said basically in so little terms that you’re doing it wrong?

Before then, I had never sent someone a picture of that nature who wasn’t immediately grateful and or elated.

These are great please send more! – is the overall theme of responses.

Anyways the point of all this is not that I’ve lost all common sense but actually how I bought into the nerd shy guy narrative to such an extent that I was actually still pursuing this person.

Here are some examples of the Shy Nerd Guy elements experienced:

• nervous side hug
• tries to impress you with last time he went drinking, clear that he doesn’t drink a lot
• doesn’t know how to ask you to go to the next bar
• looks down a lot
• very excited about school but doesn’t want to bore you
• waits until almost end of night to touch your knee after a lot of beer
• fumbles around trying to ask if you want to “hang out” after the bar. Is so unclear and mumbly you have to intervene and help spell it out for him.

Now here are some of the Fuckboi ones:

• responds 6 hours later to your asking them to get beer with you with a “maybe i’ll stop by”
• doesn’t ask a thing about you
• talks about concerns about his new school
• complains about the beer
• keeps saying over and over that he doesn’t want to seem uppity or showoffy when people ask what school he goes to. (Good fucking god it’s just a UC get over yourself)
• absolutely refuses the idea that he could be drunk
• says they can’t have you hang out at their place, but is your car here?
• replacing your hand that’s around their waist to their back instead
• masturbates in front of you awhile because your hand job wasn’t up to par

Awkwardness and intellect don’t equate human decency or kindness to women essentially.

Can anyone else believe how many asshats I’ve gotten involved with in this past year alone? It’s a little startling. Luckily, kind of, I’ve had some health stuff come up this past month which has kind of taken me out of the running for dating and hookups for a bit. I’m actually grateful. Even reading this now I don’t know how I was chasing someone THAT awful, Christ.

Well I do hope for some of you out there that this is a helpful word of caution, and do watch out for your local nerds, that sweater vest could be borrowed from a roommate!

Bitter Town, Population: Me

My Spotify is overwhelmed with a recent binge of angry, “he’s a fucktard” music, with an occasional throw in of “I don’t need him” music, with sporadic clamors of “Im going to go out and get some because I’m way hot!” music. None of it changes much of anything but it’s good to have variety!

I thought at almost 29 years old, I’d be leaning towards a more mature set of men, of people in general!

But what if the immature one is me?

Eleven am on a Saturday morning I wake up and craft a plan to seduce a boy 7 hours after sleeping with another.

The “another” is The Dancer, and my date with him the night before was magical. If magic is intrigue with myself for why I stayed on the date and then had sex with him. Maybe I was put under a spell, or better yet a curse with fire and a stone and pieces of hair!

I named him The Dancer because we met while dancing at a club, our eyes lock across a crowded room (six feet away) and me leaving the guy I was dancing with to go to him (my friends had been trying to get him away from me anyway). Love and convenience was in the air!

A week from our first “eye lock” (and dance floor make out session) our now first date comes to a blurry end at 4 am as he made a last grab for my breasts before stumbling into a lyft outside my parents house. Modern romance.

Putting clothes back on and room to order, I pass out and wake up that Saturday morning thinking of Boy Next Door and the limited time I have to make something happen with him before he moves out.

I put on three different lotions but not perfume because I want to smell like a fucking garden exploded but not like I expect to see anyone.

My outfit that took me an hour to put together was the perfect blend  of “I don’t give a shit” and “Yes, I have always been this sexy.”

I take a seat in a comfy chair, kick my legs out relaxed onto the arm of the other sofa, and lie in wait, looking as casual as one can look when trying way too hard to sleep with someone.

Casual reminder, I have literally just slept with someone.

This all feels minor in comparison to what I did the previous morning.

Boy Next Door was mentioning wanting a party to happen, so I made one up.

Yes I am now the patheticness of Season One Ted Mosby (if you haven’t watched How I Met Your Mother by now, there’s no hope for you) throwing three parties in a row in hopes Robin would show.

I’ve always despised that episode interestingly enough. I always wondered how someone could put their friends through that just for the prospect of someone.

Everything has come full circle and I do understand it now and I did contemplate blackmailing my friends into ditching their other plans to come to this party that doesn’t exist, and yes my end goal for that party was me and Boy Next Doors drunk hook up.

So back to the “casual” allure of me and my three scented lotions, eleven am has turned into midnight ( I did not stay there on the couch waiting for him, I went out and did things OKAY) when finally he comes home.

As he comes towards me my whole body faces him, our eyes meet and we begin to speak as we slowly walk towards each other, and that’s when he says it:

“Where’s Keith?”

My brothers name.

As he walks on past me towards my brothers room and as I hear the two of them laugh about things unrelated to me, I stomp back into my own room to pout myself to sleep.

Since that anti-climactic Saturday, The Dancer has stopped all contact with and blown off our plans for our second date and Boy Next Door is going forward with all plans to move out and not hook up with me.

In an effort to find out why my life is this way, I decided to ask myself a series of questions as if I were on a game show, about to win a car or a really expensive set of plates, and here’s what I got

Game Show Host: Why did you go out with the Dancer?

Me: It seemed like we clicked, got along, thought the same things were funny

GSH: Did you want to date him?

M: Well uh maybe like if things were-

GSH: Why didn’t you want to date him? Is he not good enough for you?

M: No uh of course not I was just not sure-

GSH: So there is someone else!!!!??

M: Well no err like I mean I’m not dating anyone at all so

GSH: So you’re saying you’re dumping The Dancer for no one, no one at all

M: Uh well technically yes but

GSH: Well maybe if you had acted a little more interested I would have texted

M: Uh wait

GSH: No I mean HE, HE would have texted

M: Omg

GSH: no no

M: fucking seriously

GSH: listen-

This is about as far as I got. Maybe game shows aren’t the way to self actualize, so I looked at the “G” word,

Guilt.

I felt guilty in my lyft on my way to meet the Dancer for our date. My lyft driver had put on this instrumental music which started to fuck with me, and got me thinking, which is never a good idea before a first date.

I had texted Boy Next Door an hour before getting into this lyft, to let him know:

“everyone is busy so no party tomorrow night ”

Leaving out of course that there had been no party to begin with.

Sitting in this lyft that was now starting in on the rythyms of the flute, I got real sad that he wasn’t even going to text back to say “bummer” or “ok” and that’s when I started thinking about turning back.

I mean maybe this date isn’t such a good idea because I’m clearly too upset over the lack of reply about a party I lied about in the first place?

But I didn’t turn back, I knew Boy Next Door would be out of the house soon and I would be able to focus on the Dancer then. Why should I lose out on such a great guy?

During an Oreo binge last night, I realized something – as we all do because oreos are great carriers of wisdom – maybe the Dancer didn’t end up being a great guy, but maybe also I’m not such a great girl?

I’ve done a fair share of lying and manipulating this week and maybe that’s what I’m attracting….

I am 100% still bitter and jaded and listening to songs about the heart pangs of sleeping with fuck boys, but I do shed some light on my own behavior, my own responsibility, maybe I don’t always get to play the wronged and wounded victim?

Maybe I need to own that I’ve also got a manipulative bitch in me who wants what she wants and is pissed when she doesn’t get it.

Maybe I should also let her have more Oreos? I mean if I’m not going to let her jump people’s bones, I better give her something.

Till next time my friends, don’t fuck with fuck boys but when you do make sure you got your Spotify playlist ready!